


unshackled

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Canon Universe, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Imprisonment, M/M, POV Steve McGarrett, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: in which the situation calls for a kiss and close physical contact.not episode-related, written just for the fun of it.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 18
Kudos: 210





	unshackled

He has no clear idea how they landed here. The op went well, until it didn’t, like it sometimes does.

He must have taken a blow to the head. The corners of his vision are still a bit blurry. Concussion, most likely. His ribs hurt, but they aren’t broken. A quick inventory of his body tells him he’s mostly fine.

Steve looks around. A cell, underground perhaps, not natural light, just an old halogen tube that sizzles now and then. His hands are shackles over his head. His feet bound.

“Welcome back,” Danny mutters next to him. He’s constrained, too, and a sizeable black eye is building on his face.

“Hey,” Steve mutters. “You hurt?”

Danny shrugs. “I’ll survive. And if I do, remind me to never agree to one your plans ever again, will you?”

Alright, Danny is pissed, which means he’s most likely okay. Steve learned a long time ago that he should start to worry when Danny stops complaining.

“It was a solid plan,” he shoots back, just to get a rise out of his partner.

It works like a charm. Always does.

“Solid, huh? It wasn’t solid, Steve. More importantly, it wasn’t even a real plan. Running into a building guns blazing without waiting for backup or even knowing who’s inside, that’s not a plan, that’s madness.”

Danny’s eyes are glowing in the fluorescent light. Damn, he looks good like this, all righteous fury. It’s one of the reasons Steve lets him rant, because Danny’s too preoccupied to call Steve out for his ogling.

“You done?”

Danny just glares.

“If you are, I’d like you to come over here and help me getting us out of this,” Steve continues.

“Oh, okay, now you have a plan or what?,” Danny bites, but he comes over slowly. His ankles and hands are in handcuffs, so he’s got not much room to maneuver, which makes his movements funny and awkward, but at least he can move. Steve, on the other hand, can only wriggle. Their captors must have identified him as the bigger threat. Which he most likely is, but still, they made a mistake in underestimating Danny.

When Danny stands right in front of him, Steve nods his head downwards. “There’s a metal pin sticking in the side of my right boot,” Steve says.

“Of course there is,” Danny sighs. “Of course you have a pin in your shoe so you can free yourself out of an underground torture cell if the need arises,” he mutters to himself. “After all, it’s almost a weekly occasion for you.”

“Danny,” Steve says, and Danny stops for a whole three seconds.

“If you wanted me to kneel for you, you could have just asked,” Danny growls while he lowers himself, which is a good thing because he doesn’t see Steve’s mouth fall open and hopefully won’t see the blush that shoots up Steve’s neck at those words. _If I’d known you’d actually do it, I’d asked a long time ago_, Steve thinks, but he doesn’t say it, just chuckles as if Danny made a mediocre joke.

It’s highly inappropriate that Steve enjoys the show of Danny getting slowly down on his knees, - his old injury still makes him careful, - and that his heartrate picks up just from the sight of it.

“It’s on the right heel,” he offers while Danny feels around the sole with his hands clasped together.

“Got it,” Danny murmurs and proceeds to pull the picklock out of the rubber. Steve bites his tongue to not give him any pointers, because that would only lead to more complaining and he needs Danny focused right now.

After what feels like hours Danny finally wedges the pin free with a triumphant little shout. He lifts himself up groaning and shows Steve the pin. “Now what? I don’t know how to use stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I offered to teach you, remember? And you said, and I quote: _In what possible situation would I ever need an ability like that, Steven? The only one who gets in such situations is you, and I’m wise enough not to follow you into them_.”

Danny’s lips thin into a line. “Yeah, yeah, I said that. You were right, I was wrong, happy now?”

Steve sighs. “No, I’m not, but if you give me the pin, I might get us out of here.”

Danny reaches up to give Steve the pin, which is not that easy because Steve’s arms are stretched up rather high, and Danny, loathe as he is to admit it, is quite a bit shorter than Steve. Danny gets up on his tiptoes, his whole body flush against Steve, his mouth so close Steve can feels his breath, smell the faint scent of stale coffee on it.

Two things happen at once then. Danny finally puts the metal pin into Steve’s hand, and the door to the hallway on the other side of the cell opens.

Steve has to think, and he has to think fast. The guard will know what they’re doing if Steve doesn’t come up with an alternative explanation in the next split second.

Shove Danny away – too late for that.

Thankfully Danny lowers his hands already, which is good, it makes their position less suspicious, but still, Danny’s way too close, so Steve does the only thing he can think of.

He kisses Danny.

Danny’s eyes widen, and he makes a sound of surprise, but Steve murmurs against his lips “Play along”, before he dives in again. Danny must have heard the guard now, too, and must have understood Steve’s tactic because his bound hands grab onto Steve’s shirt between them and he gets back up on his tiptoes and he, oh dear god, he kisses Steve back like he means it. And he’s good at it, too. _They_ are good at it. Nothing of the awkward fumbling for the right angle, the trying for the right amount of pressure that were trademarks of every single one of his first kisses. It’s all right there, perfect, as if they were made to do this. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Danny pulls back at that, as if the guard surprised him, and Steve’s a little bit in awe of how good an actor Danny can be.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. After all, this might be the last hour of your lives, so it’s understandable you’d seek some kind of consolation in each other,” the guards sneers, and Steve’s hands curl into fists. The metal pin digs deep into his palm.

“I brought you some water,” the man continues. “The boss is due back soon, and we wouldn’t want you dehydrated when he kills you, would we?”

Danny stays close by when the man puts down to bottles of water just inside the cell. For once in his life, Danny seems to be at a loss for words. No snarky comeback, no biting remark, he just stands there and glares at the guard. It’s fascinating.

The guard turns and waves a hand over his head. “I’ll be back soon, guys. Do nothing I wouldn’t do.”

And with that, the door falls shut again, and heavy silence settles on their cell. Steve waits a minute for Danny to start talking, to shout at him or scold him or tell him what and idiotic plan that was, and give him a talk about consent and respecting other people’s boundaries or something like that.

But Danny says nothing. He doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes either.

After another minute, Danny rubs both palms down his face as if he wants to erase the feeling of Steve’s mouth on him. “Just get us out of here,” he mutters. He sounds tired. Steve wonders how much he managed to destroy between them with one stupid decision. No time to think about that now.

Steve fumbles for the pin, concentrates on sliding it into the lock and find the right position to crack it open without looking. It’s harder than you’d think, and it takes all of his focus (_don’t look at Danny_, _don’t think about what happened_) and a good five minutes of trying different angles until the lock springs open. He bends forward to open to rope on his ankles, crouches there a bit longer than necessary because next will be Danny and he needs a moment to brace himself.

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” Danny says, and when Steve looks up, he’s standing right in front of him, their positions from before reversed. As much as he liked Danny on his knees in front of him, Steve likes this even more, he realizes.

He opens the cuffs on Danny’s ankles and the takes Danny’s hands carefully in his. Their eyes meet for the first time since the _incident_ happened, and Steve is prepared to find disgust and anger in Danny’s gaze, but instead he is met with a look so anxious and full of questions and even a small glimpse of wonder, it’s almost comical, if this weren’t so very serious.

The look on Danny’s face doesn’t say what Steve did was a mistake. It just says he might have picked the wrongest possible moment to do it.

And they have no time now to talk about it.

Steve stands and goes over the cell door to pick what will hopefully the last lock today. After some mild cursing the door swings open with a squeal, and then they’re out and through the doorway. The cell is indeed underground, because they find themselves in another hallway with more ancient halogen lights, the walls rough stone. Steve picks a direction at random and sets out in a slow jog, knowing Danny will follow.

When he gets to a corner, he hears the voices of at least three men in the last moment and stops, Danny bumping into his back. The voices become louder, and Danny, because he’s Danny, is about to ask what’s up so Steve turns and puts a hand over his mouth, shoves him up against the wall (which, yeah, might not have been necessary, but Danny won’t now that). Danny’s wide eyes are a mere inch away and while Steve waits for the men to pass next to them, the black of Danny’s irises grows and grows and grows.

Steve could be mistaken, but Danny’s breath comes a little faster, too.

As does his own.

Those guys must be the slowest moving criminals in the history of crime, and the moment stretches on forever, long enough for Steve to realize how ridiculously, completely turned-on he is, long enough for his mind to come to terms with the fact that Danny might be, too.

He spent a good few years denying his feelings for Danny, until he reached a point where even he couldn’t repress the truth any longer. There had been moments, when he’d been almost sure Danny felt the same, but Steve did his best to ignore them. The banter that turned into flirting more often than not, the lingering glances, the just-a-little-more-than-casual touches – Steve rationalized them all with the stress of the job and Danny’s personality. And it worked out fine. The what-ifs became bearable, lost their razor-sharp edges and dulled to a constant presence in the back of his mind, soothed by the knowledge that his partner was also his best friend and what they had was good and solid. Now, though.

Finally the men pass by without noticing them. Steve lowers his hand slowly, but he doesn’t step back. Danny licks his lips, his gaze flicking down to Steve’s mouth, before he sighs, closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall.

It’s too dangerous to say something, and they really have to get out of here, so Steve grabs Danny’s hand and pulls him into the next hallway. They reach a staircase, climb it carefully, and reach another hallway, concrete this time, with weak natural light seeping in. Steve sets his sight on a light shaft on their right hand side. After a quick look around he pulls on the covering grate. They’re lucky – some of the screws are corroded and come loose after a few good tugs.

He heaves himself through the opening and makes sure the air is clear outside before reaching back to offer Danny a hand. It’s night outside, and in the moonlight Steve can make out a few low-rise building scattered around a large open space. He remembers the car chase that ended in a ditch a mile from here, how they ran after the perps and followed them into the building before the memory cuts off.

They had wondered from where the drug cartel operated and never found their head-quarters. Seems like Danny and him stumbled right into it.

But they don’t have the time to find out more now. Without their guns and his knives and their phones there’s nothing they can do, so Steve ducks his head and runs across the open yard, hears Danny’s footsteps behind him, and, just as they reach the next dark structure, shouts from inside the building they were held captive in.

“Run,” he whispers, and Danny’s by his side, falling in step next to him as the run as fast as they can. Steve makes out distant moving lights and changes direction towards it. They’re on an unpaved road that angles toward the highway. It’s only a matter of time until the men chasing them will get in their cars, so Steve sheers off the road into an open field and toward a small copse.

Just when they reach the tree line, lights flash behind them and Steve shoves Danny flat on the ground, lies next to him on the cool grass while the cars drive by, before he crawls into the shelter of the trees. Leaning against a trunk, he tries to catch his breath. Danny sinks down next to him, equally winded.

“So,” Danny starts after long moments and falls silent again.

“Yeah,” Steve answers.

“Thank you, I guess, for getting me out of there.”

Steve shoots a look to the side to find Danny examining his hands and the marks on his wrists. “You’re welcome.”

They fall silent again. Danny takes a deep breath now and then, as if he’s getting ready to say something, ask the question that hangs between them, but every time he just shakes his head and just exhales slowly.

“Aren’t we gonna talk about what happened in there?” Steve finds the guts to ask at last.

Danny huffs a laugh. “I don’t know, Steve, are we?” He turns his head to fix his stare on Steve who can only barely make out his features in the dark. Steve fights to not look away, to face Danny and whatever comes next. He’d prefer to storm into the building all over again.

“I kissed you,” he states. Sometimes it’s easiest to start off with the facts.

“Yeah, you did,” Danny acknowledges.

“And you kissed me back,” Steve goes on.

Danny waves his hands. “Of course I did. It was a life-and-death-situation,” he mutters.

“So the question is,” Steve gathers what little bravery he has, “would you have kissed me back if it hadn’t been?”

Danny wiggles his index finger in Steve’s face. “No, that’s not the question here. The real question is, would _you_ have kissed _me_ if it hadn’t been the only way to distract that guard. If we were not in immediate danger, and instead, let’s say, just for the argument’s sake, sat in the dark in some forest- “

Steven doesn’t let him finish. Steve is a man of action, and he acts by instinct, and his instincts seldom prove him wrong. So he acts. His hand is on Danny’s neck, warm skin under his palm, and his body twisted sideways, and his lips find Danny’s with that same eerie precision as before, and Danny, thank god, doesn’t push him away but sighs against his lips with a relieved little sound that does _things_ to Steve.

Danny’s lips are warm and firm, slightly opened from speaking and as Steve gets the first real taste of Danny, he’s already sure he’ll never get enough. The kiss, starting out hesitant and inquiring, turns hungry and demanding in no time. If Danny wanted this even half as long as Steve, he must be desperate, Steve thinks, as his pulse throbs in his ears.

He pulls back slightly. “I would,” he murmurs, unnecessarily.

“Took you long enough, you big dumb-“ Danny obviously doesn’t deem it necessary to elaborate on that, because he pushes against Steve’s chest, pushes him back flat unto the soft ground and goes right back to kissing him, this time with a lot more purpose and determination, thoroughly, because that’s how Danny Williams does things.

Steve opens up willingly under the onslaught, parts his lips to greet Danny’s inquiring tongue and to the deep licks that shoot tendrils of pleasure along his spine, from his head right into his gut. Danny wedges a knee between Steve’s and grinds down shamelessly, pulling a deep moan from both of them.

“This okay?” Danny whispers between kisses, voice already rough.

Steve just tucks him down again and rocks up into that heavenly friction. Danny must feel Steve hardening against his thigh.

“You’re aware that I could stop you any time I’d want, right?” Steve rasps.

Danny cocks an eyebrow. “That so?” There’s a glint in his eye that Steve saw before, down in the basement when Steve pushed him against that wall.

Interesting.

Instead of an answer, Steve grabs Danny’s wrists, bucks his hips up and turns them in one fluid motion so Danny’s under him, panting, hair a total mess and his eyes blazing. Steve rocks his hips down for good measure, makes them both groan with it.

Danny half-heartedly tries to get free but mostly undulates under Steve in the most enticing way. Steve had known that, if it ever came to this, it would be a glorious, equal parts annoying and challenging clash of wills, just like everything they do, infuriating and passionate. Danny parts his thighs for him but attacks his mouth at the same time, asserting his dominance with a deep kiss that feels a lot like fucking. It’s mindboggling, and oh so perfect. Steve’s lightheaded from the sheer possibilities of what else they could do (and the lack of oxygen most likely).

They mangle each other in the dirt like animals, grunts and groans and spit and teeth, and at one point, Steve lets go of Danny’s hands only to feel them grabbing all over his back and ass a moment later - like everything Danny does, even this involves a lot of gesturing.

Steve sneaks a hand between them to open first Danny’s slacks then his own cargos because, let’s be real here, he _could_ come like a fifteen year old with his pants still on, but he waited too long for this to not at least have his hand on Danny’s cock _once_ before it happens.

Danny makes the most wonderful noise when the buttons and zippers and shorts are pushed out of the way and Steve pushes himself up on his free hand to look down and watch as he grips both of them in his palm.

“Fuck, Danny,” he whispers.

Danny gets up on his elbows to watch, too, as Steve starts jerking them both, presses the heads together and rubs a thumb through the pearls of precome, mixing them, easing the motion. Danny rocks up into the friction, almost making Steve loose his grip, and the whole maneuver becomes frantic and uncoordinated with every involuntary thrust of his own hips. Steve never liked to lose control, but right now he’s willing to give it up, because it’s Danny and it’s safe and it feels so damn good. Danny tucks his head down into another kiss, little more than a press of lips and ragged breaths mingling, and digs his fingertips deep into Steve’s scalp while his body tenses.

“Close,” Danny rasps and fucks up into Steve hands with two, three aborted thrusts. Steve ducks his head to look, he _needs_ to watch Danny fall apart for him. Danny throws his head back with a guttural moan that will play a leading role in Steve’s daydreams from now on, and he comes in thick spurts that fly all over his still clothed chest, up to his neck, one drop catching Steve’s chin.

Steve watches it all, mesmerized, too caught up in it to realize that he’s really close himself, and when Danny curls his hand around his own, Danny still moaning with oversensitivity, it only takes a few tight tugs until Steve’s reaching that perfect plateau, Danny’s name on his lips, and then tumbles over the edge, too. His ears are ringing with the force of it, the air pushed from his lungs, and he collapses over Danny with an undignified grunt.

Danny, who never skips an opportunity to call Steve an indelicate animal, refrains from any comment, just puts his arms around Steve and holds him while they catch their breath. Danny’s hearts beats steady and strong against Steve’s chest, soothing at first, then reminding him of the time passing while the lie there together.

“We should have done this ages ago,” Steve murmurs against the soft skin on Danny’s neck.

“Oh, yeah?”, Danny laughs, rustles Steve’s head in the process. “I’m sorry, but the chances are really high that we’d never figured this out if it hadn’t been for those drug dealers putting us in a situation that couldn’t be solved with your usual tools, you know, explosives, a grenade launcher or a machete, but only with a kiss.”

“A real fairy tale,” Steve chuckles, because Danny’s right. They missed so many chances, and even now he wonders what it’ll do to their friendship, their partnership, this new and exciting but terrifying thing they’ve unleashed.

Danny, as if reading his mind, rakes a hand through his hair and scratches his head. “Stop! I can hear you overthinking it, Steven.” Steve closes his eyes and tries to calm his thoughts. “As soon as my legs work again, we’re getting out of here, get help, put these assholes to justice. And then, you and I are gonna talk about it like grown-ups.”

Steve groans.

Danny ignores him.

“And then, we’ll have sex again. In an actual bed. Without any clothes.”

Steve can get behind that plan. In fact, he can’t wait. He pushes himself to his knees and stands up, hastily brushing leaves and soil from his still open pants, and reaches out a hand to Danny who’s still laying there, come-stains all over his rumpled shirt and grinning like a lunatic, a grin that must be mirrored on his own face.

“Count me in. You comin’?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanting](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi!


End file.
